


Quirks and Their Side Effects

by facelesshellion



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Almost funerals, Awkward Dancing, Best bromantic friends, But it's a vague Tarsus IV never named so I dunno if that counts, Could be seen as slash or friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Bones, Smidge of protective Jim at the end, Tarsus IV, a little bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facelesshellion/pseuds/facelesshellion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk's always been a weirdo. </p><p>Leonard could use some more weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quirks and Their Side Effects

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I'm not even going to lie. I wrote this for me, I don't expect anyone to like it because it's structured oddly and written oddly and some parts are better than others. Some parts are very in detail and unnecessary and other parts it's like, "Well wtf why did basically nothing happen here I am so lost that was so vague what even was that" and I don't care because I had a rough week and I wanted to write something for meeee~ 
> 
> So this is my guilty pleasure writing, and as always I'd love it if you read it and gave me some feedback. I like it a lot, I liked trying something different and as much as I hope someone else likes it, I won't hold my breath. ;) Which is fine! Like I said, this is just for me so I won't be crushed if you comment and say, "yeeeeeah that could use some work... Try again next time buddy." 
> 
> I'll probably be editing it later and maybe try to make it better, add some things on to make the reflection aspect of it add up more, if I ever get time, but that probably won't be until I finish my next big project (My only series on here, I'd like to focus on that now that I have this out of my system. I've been dying to toy around with this idea and I couldn't bear to leave it alone today because I needed a distraction.) 
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope this isn't a complete waste of your time, and have an awesome day!

Jim is Leonard’s best friend. Leonard adores the kid more than anyone else in the world because Jim Kirk is fucking weird and needs someone in his corner. He had no one and Leonard had no one so they fit together and that’s that.

The closest thing to a match made in heaven they would get in this universe, he thought when they started living together.

Leonard fought his way into Jim’s corner because Jim gave him a purpose within twenty-four hours of meeting him, which was more than any family member could do for him after months of bleakness. 

Jim was the brat that griped and whined and shoved at him until he got out of bed that first morning of classes. Jim was the little shit that stayed up and helped him through the nitty-gritty details of his divorce even before they were friends. Jim was the infant that hacked the academy’s database to shove them into a dorm together after filing a fake complaint from Leonard’s roommate. Jim was the child that let a heavily intoxicated Leonard use him as a teddy bear when his wife’s tests came back negative and cemented his position in Starfleet. 

Leonard relies on Jim more than he should, but at least he could never say that their friendship was one-sided. 

Jim might be Leonard’s best friend, but Leonard has enough experience with people to know that he’s all Jim has too, and Jim might just need Leonard more than Leonard needs him.

Jim’s lack of contact with anyone outside of the academy was the main clue Leonard picked up on. Unsurprising, seeing as Leonard came to Starfleet in the same condition, but also bizarre, because it’s not like Jim had a divorce that tore his life apart. Also bizarre, because Leonard at least calls his mama every once in awhile to check in, and Jim never uses his communicator with anyone that isn’t Leonard or a professor or a random hook-up he needs to let down because no, he doesn’t want to go on a date but he’s flattered and has s/he seen the boy/girl/etc. in xenolinguistics club because s/he’d be interested-? 

Various other indicators, like Jim’s appearances at the clinic either as a patient or as a visitor with snacks for Leonard and the other doctors on call, or like his insistence that he didn’t even like Thanksgiving so why would he want to go to Iowa of all places when he and Leonard could stay in and try to deep-fry Oreos the old fashioned way and eat them until they throw up? 

Jim might be Leonard’s best friend, yes, but he’s also fucking weird. Leonard sort of loves him more for all of his quirks. 

Take, for example, their first year: 

{Their first year is barely halfway over by the time Christmas rolls around, but Leonard finds himself becoming less and less like a Leonard and more like a Bones. 

It doesn’t help that around campus it’s always, “Kirk and McCoy”, never “Kirk” or “McCoy”. 

A year ago, Leonard would have been unnerved and probably stop speaking to Jim once he realized how much time they spent together. 

However, a year ago Leonard was preparing to start a family with his wife and picking out colors for a nursery, which spoke volumes about the changes in his life. 

Because they’re best friends and eerily codependent on each other, Leonard assumes that they would spend the winter holiday together. He’s wondering if Jim really is Jewish or if he celebrates Christmas when he brings it up. 

“So how much of a decorator are you?” He smacks Jim’s hand away from his plate when he tries to snatch his roll. It’s common enough, one of Jim’s many, many quirks that make him such a weird kid, and Jim backs off after the smack without a word. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” He waves vaguely around the restaurant they’re in, at the red and green poinsettias and the menorahs hanging from the ceiling and the cheesy, centuries old music playing loudly. “Holiday season is coming up, and I was wondering how little decorations I can get away with having.” 

Jim doesn’t stop eating, but he’s looking at Leonard strangely. “People actually do that stuff? Like decorate and celebrate, I mean.” 

A year ago, Leonard would have scoffed and told him to stop being an idiot. 

Now, he shrugs. “Yeah, it’s pretty common still. Earth is still big on the ‘spirit of the holiday season’ and all that bull, you know? Good commercialized holidays keep the spirits up for the people and the economy I guess.” 

Jim scrapes his fork along the bottom of his plate, picking up the last drips of juice from his steak. “Huh. I never really did any of that. Mom, Sam, and I, we sorta would just celebrate whenever Mom was home. We’d make things for each other and cook for each other and that’d be it. No birthdays or holidays really.  
“Seems kind of weird to me that people have set days every year. Where’s the fun in that? No surprise, no real happiness if you’re expecting it to happen.” 

(Leonard, months before, had asked, “How often did your mom come home when you were a kid?” 

“I dunno, I mean, she was there until I turned five before visiting every other year or so for a couple of weeks, but after her tours she’d stay for a couple of months before heading back out.” He grinned. “Best engineer in the entire ‘fleet, you know. Wouldn’t do anyone any justice if she was grounded. We kept in touch though. I miss her, but she’s on a classified mission so I don’t know where she is.” 

“How long she been gone this time?” 

“Mm, couple of months now. Her tour’ll probably be done in another year, this is a short one.”

He accepted the vague, confusing answer that didn't really make any sense put together.) 

Leonard nods. “Gives people time to plan if they want to take time off of work or school to see their family though. And people like routine. It’s easier to pick a day to remember to get something for someone than to just do it randomly. It’s easier to get rejected or ridiculed if there isn’t something that lets someone have an excuse if it goes badly. 

“People get nervous, you know? So if they can say, ‘Oh, I got you this for Christmas,’ they can all pretend that it doesn’t mean more than the receiver is comfortable with, because it’s just a Christmas gift. While giving something to someone on a random day implies that the giver maybe feels more strongly than the receiver, giving someone something on a holiday or birthday and is expected, and it takes off some pressure from the giver.” 

On cue, Jim looks confused for the slightest second before smoothing out his features and going for Leonard’s dinner roll again. Leonard doesn’t stop him that time. 

Sometimes his explanations don't make sense to him either, so he never blames Jim for throwing him bewildered looks. He's never been the teaching type, but for Jim, he'll give it a shot.

Jim gives him a wrapped box a week later, which is still a week before Christmas. He beams when Leonard thanks him for the hat, mittens, and scarf combo folded inside. They’re all dark, navy blue, and he has a suspicion that they’re homemade since there weren’t any tags to tear off. Their quality amazes Leonard and he ponders the meaning of both the quality and content of the gift.

He wears the ensemble all day, despite it being close to 70 degrees outside. The dark wool is comforting and soft, if a bit warm, and Jim’s ensuing joy makes it worth the bemused stares he gets all day. 

On the 25th, they have a normal Saturday to bicker like usual. Jim laughs when Leonard has his morning coffee and spits it out because apparently someone switched the sugar and salt containers. 

He gives Jim hell for that and retaliates by slathering Jim’s afternoon beer can in gorilla glue. Jim responds with a pillow to Leonard’s face. 

They call a truce after a PADD nearly gets flushed down the toilet. They watch Nightmare on Elm Street and Jim cackles every time Leonard shrieks. They replicate mac and cheese for dinner and fall asleep half on top of each other. 

Jim wakes up with another beer can glued to his palm. 

Leonard gives Jim his not-Christmas present two days after the 25th, when they both have days off. 

Jim doesn’t speak to him for hours outside of, “It’s a real paper book, Bones! I’ve never even touched one before, my grandpa had all sorts of them but I was always too young to be trusted with them. Oh my God, smell it, people always talk about how paper smells, it’s actually the best!” because why talk when there’s a real book? 

He’s more than a little proud that he was able to figure out a good gift for the kid that kept him from tripping up during the first semester. 

So their holiday isn’t conventional, and Leonard never wanted it to be. Jim’s weirder than the freshman that ate glue in his third year of medical school, and Leonard knows he’s just scratching the surface of Jim Kirk’s strange customs.

Because he acknowledges his ignorance of all things Jim, he wishes he had thought to ask Jim about his preferred protocol for his birthday. 

January 4th is creeping up on him, and while Leonard has an in at the restaurant Jim’s been raving about wanting to eat at, he doesn’t know if he’s touchy about it being the day of his father’s death or if he likes celebrating or if he doesn’t want to do anything or if he wants to drink until he can’t stand. 

He knows he can ask Jim what he wants to do and Jim won’t mind, will probably answer without a thought and flash Leonard his “This is for Bones and only Bones” smile. But he can’t shake the feeling that he should know, that it isn’t polite or proper to ask a day or two before the date actually occurs and he’s cut it too close already. 

He’s been raised on southern manners and while they’re usually overdramatized, his parents had been huge on watching people and understanding their needs before his own. Being raised like that is a large part of the reason he became a doctor. 

It’s January 3rd, 2300 hours, and Leonard is still trying to figure out what to do for Jim’s birthday when he drifts off on top of his covers, a PADD on his chest with directions to Rosemary’s Bistro. 

When he wakes up, it’s to the sound of his bedroom door swooshing open and gentle rustling. He keeps his eyes closed. His door clicks shut after the intruder, and crinkly thin plastic sheets land next to his face. A ghost of a hand traces over his brow before disappearing. 

He doesn’t realize how cold he was until a blanket is draped over him, gently tucked underneath of him by familiar hands. 

He keeps his eyes closed when soft somethings fall next to his face and brush his cheekbones. One is placed behind an ear, tenderly as if he’s something precious. 

“So, I don’t know if you’re awake or not, Bones.” The whisper confirms his identity. 

His bed dips when the intruder sits down. 

“I guess this is my version of the rejection thing you mentioned awhile ago about holidays. My, ah, safety net. Like, if this weirds you out, you can pretend you slept through the entire thing or leave before I make an idiot of myself or you aren’t awake for it at all and it’s a moot point.” 

He pauses. Leonard stays still. 

“When I was younger, we always visited my dad and gave him tons of flowers at his private gravesite on my birthday. We had to visit the memorial and do the required ‘Grieving Family’ spiel, but we had our personal ways too. 

“My mom would have me and Sam cover his grave in flowers. And I mean completely cover. We gardened year-round to have fresh flowers for him and we bought out flower shops. It was always pretty ugly to be completely honest, but it was pretty beautiful too. 

“We’d just talk. It was like a funeral every year, where my mom would say prayers and say how great of a man he was and how great of a father he would have been. And Sam would talk about the few memories he had of him, and I’d say how grateful I was for his sacrifice and how I want to grow up to be like him. My mom said she always regretted not saying these things to him when he was alive and how she wanted to make up for it by doing this for him every year.

“And by the time my mom started packing to go back to her position in Starfleet, I thought that was how birthdays were. Celebrating the dead and going home to reflect on how lucky you are to be alive. And the situation sort of mutated for us because of that. 

“I started doing this… I guess it’s a service, I don’t really know. I’ve called it a pre-death funeral,” He shifts around on the bed and leans against Leonard’s thigh. “I started holding pre-death funerals every year on my birthday. Part of me thought that I would make my mom feel better by telling her everything I wanted her to know and doing it in the same way she did for my dad. 

“I remember asking my mom to lay down on the couch after we got home from the graveyard. I remember giving her a small bouquet to hold and told her to close her eyes. She was pretty freaked out until I started talking and saying how much I love her and how grateful I was for everything she did for me and Sam. Sam joined in, and she stayed there for a long time. I cried while it was happening, Sam kept an arm around me and talked when I couldn’t. When we finally finished saying everything, she sat up and hugged us and… I think that’s why I kept doing it. 

“Bones, she looked at me and I was so ecstatic that she was still alive with us. I think I had convinced myself that she actually was dead for a couple minutes, so seeing her open her eyes and wake up was… Indescribable. It puts things in perspective.

“Sam and I did it for each other a couple times a year, usually after we fought and made up, always opening our eyes afterward. I was always clingy for a day or two. It made us seem more real. I cried every time, so I know it meant more to me than Sam because he always sorta laughed through his half of things. He thought I was weird on normal days, and when we did that, he thought I was certifiable, especially once he started growing up and spending more time with his friends.

“Mom never made us go to the graveyard on my birthday again though and she would always play along and do the same thing for us. She laughed too sometimes, but hers was more self-conscious. Sam laughed like it was a joke, and she laughed like she wished it was a joke. 

“It meant even more to me later when I went off planet. I was thirteen and I didn’t do it just on my birthday anymore, but almost every day, even if I couldn’t find flowers. Improv, you know? It comforted everyone then. We were all pretty scared all the time, and it distracted us. I was lucky enough that the kids with me were pretty weird themselves and only one or two knew anything about Earth. I could pass it off as just a bizarre culture thing and they accepted it. It was always such a relief to know who was alive, even if they thought I was a strange little earthling.” 

He stops again and clears his throat. Leonard feels him shuffle something that sounds like tissue paper before his PADD is removed from his chest and replaced with something leafy and lighter, though not by much. 

“I haven’t done this for awhile, so I’m out of practice. Promise me you won’t laugh, okay? If you’re awake, don’t laugh. It was okay when I was thirteen and it was with kids, but… Well, you won’t have to take me out for my birthday if you don’t laugh, sound fair?” 

Leonard manically thinks that he should get up and leave now. It should be too much because apparently Jim sneaked into his room to hold an early funeral for Leonard, and anyone else would be screaming and kicking him out. He should want to stand up and awkwardly tell Jim that he doesn’t think their situation is working out and this is too much for a roommate to handle. 

He’s a doctor, the medical kind, not the psychological kind, but he can tell that this is morbid and abnormal and he should stop it before it gets out of hand, he should give Jim the number to the psychiatrist on the floor above his department because this isn’t normal on any scale. 

He relaxes further into his bed when Jim starts to talk. 

“Meeting you on the shuttle was fucking lucky of me, Bones. Seriously, I don’t think I would have been able to stick with the academy without having you with me. Knowing that there was someone as cracked as I am on that shuttle… I don’t think you’ll ever get how comforting that was. I don’t mean that in a bad way like you’re fucking batshit crazy or anything, but you can always tell who has seen a lot of shit and who hasn’t, and I knew that you had. 

“And you didn’t ask dumb questions or be rude or expect anything. You sat and we talked and you threw up and apologized and gave me bourbon. It was nice. I hadn’t had any nice in my life for a while then, and I still don’t now, so maybe I got attached a bit too easily. 

“I don’t really care though. You’re a really, really good man. I am so lucky. 

“I think you know already, but yeah, I hacked the database to have us room together. Sorry. My roommate was a dick anyway and we work so well together. That might’ve been a bit hasty, but I needed someone to help. I like cooking for us and cleaning, but just because it’s us. If it had been some bright-eyed cadet that believed that Starfleet is the be-all end-all and that space is so glorious I would have been long gone. 

“You haven’t sent in any complaints, so I guess it works for you too.” 

Leonard won’t deny that he feels a bit ridiculous, lying there and letting this kid weave his version of sonnets at him while he pretends to be asleep. It’s ludicrous what he does for this kid. 

He also won’t deny that his heart feels warmer than it has in years. 

“You know, you’re the first person that doesn’t get sick of me not understanding things. People expect me to know about normal things like holidays and food and shows and music because I know so many other things. I just… I don’t get social norms. I went to cyber school, I lived off planet for a couple of years, I had been in some shitty places before enlisting, so I don’t know how to talk to people really. 

“And you get that. You don’t expect me to know or do anything. You explain things and don’t make fun of me about it. Hell, you cater to my freakish whims. Even Mom and Sam had their limits, man. They never understood my issues with food or why I can go days talking about the same book or subject. 

“Hell, you carry more extras of my brand of EpiPen than I think they make in a year. I don’t think anyone in my family even knew that I needed an EpiPen last time I saw them. You carried me five blocks to the clinic when I got a bee sting and blew up like a balloon, and you fucking sprinted, man. No one’s ever done something like that for me before. 

“You keep me going, Bones. You make me want to do better. I came here on a dare, but I’m staying because I want to be better for you. Isn’t that weird? You’re the first person whose opinion has mattered to me since I was twelve. I don’t know how you managed that, but there it is. 

“You just… You mean so much to me, Bones. And I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll do everything I can to prove that I can be acceptable.” 

He holds back his instinctive flinch when he feels a hand tremble against his brow. 

“Thank you so much. Thank you for giving me something worthwhile, Bones. Because I wouldn’t be here right now otherwise. And I don’t mean the academy. It was too much until I found you, and I’m too selfish to try to handle everything without you again.” 

Leonard doesn’t notice that his eyes are teary until he opens them and bolts up, scattering flowers everywhere as he tugs Jim into his arms harshly. 

He doesn’t say a word when Jim tucks himself underneath Leonard’s chin and his tee shirt gets covered in tears and snot. He’s probably crushing Jim’s ribs to make sure he’s actually there. 

“You’re a damn fool, Jimmy. A damn fool if you think I’d let you leave me after you say shit like that.” 

The crying kid just laughs, delighted and free, against his neck. 

Leonard falls more in love with Jim that night when he explains all of the flowers’ meanings as Leonard puts them in a makeshift vase of five coffee mugs taped together.}

Jim Kirk’s fucking weird, but Leonard McCoy might be even weirder for how attached he is to the brat, even just at the end of their first year. 

Further demonstration of Jim Kirk’s weirdness in their second year includes the following event: 

{Leonard isn’t concerned when he gets home to their recently-bought apartment and Jim still isn’t home. 

Jim takes enough classes to make his head spin, and if Leonard remembers correctly, he has a Federation history class of some sort that night until late. Leonard has to watch Jim to make sure he remembers to eat and sleep and breathe, and sometimes it’s stressful. 

Other times, it’s rewarding to notice how Jim’s look of bewilderment any time Leonard fusses over him slowly transforms into fond acceptance and how he starts to expect Leonard’s intervention. 

Being a doctor usually satisfies Leonard’s urge to fix people, but helping Jim always keeps him sane. It’s a slow, ongoing process. 

Which means he’s surprised, but not too shocked, when Jim sprints through the door an hour before the class should be over, breathing heavily. 

Leonard puts down the pan he was frying eggs on and towels his hands off. “Everything okay, Jim?” He steps out of the kitchen and into the main area. Jim’s eyes are wide and follow him as he moves. 

“I-“ Jim swallows and his jaw clenches. 

The silence deafens both of them.

“Jim?” He finally coaxes. 

Jim’s head suddenly snaps up. “Jesus, Bones! Is something burning?” He storms into the kitchen and his eyes glue themselves to the blackened eggs. He slams the pot into the sink, hands shaking. “You can’t just waste food like that! Fuck, are you that stupid? We could have used that for something else, I could have waited until you at least took it off the burner to finish later, the fuck’s wrong with you?” 

Leonard leans against the doorway into the kitchen. 

Jim’s entire body is trembling. He crosses his arms defensively, but Leonard can tell the precise moment where his knees give out and he slides to the floor, shaking. Leonard rushes to sit down next to him.

“They had to talk about it today, they just had to do it today of all fucking days-!” Jim sobs into Leonard’s shoulder. “Fuck fuck fucking fuck Pike was supposed to warn me he was supposed to know but there was this fucking prick of a sub that decided to jump ahead and I can’t, Bones, I can’t-“ 

Leonard runs his hands along Jim’s back, in uncharted territory and not entirely confident in what to do. 

Jim cries for a couple of minutes, and Leonard shushes him as carefully as he can. 

When Jim starts breathing normally, Leonard leans his head on top of Jim’s. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Jim’s head snaps up and away, leaving Leonard to flail back. 

“The fuck would I want to do that for? No, no way, I saw, I cried, and I’m done now. No, no talking.” He scrambles up and, on only slightly shaky legs, finds the radio Leonard keeps in the kitchen when he’s starving but tired enough that falling asleep in his midnight snack is an option “Come on, we’re dancing.” 

“What?” 

Jim sighs, exasperated as he scans the channels. “You know how to tango, don’t you? You said you and your ex took dancing classes for a competition or something. Right?” 

He grips Leonard’s wrists tightly and tugs, getting him to his feet. 

“Yeah. We lost.” 

“Yes, but you still know how to dance, so you’re going to teach me so I can forget this epic failure of a day.” 

Leonard could argue, say that Jim should talk about what was enough to make him sob because Jim had never been that blatantly emotional before. 

He decides it’s not worth it. 

“Well, even though I’m sure you want to learn the sexiest dance first, we’ll have to start a little bit easier. How about a waltz for tonight?” 

“That sounds boring.” 

“Gotta learn to walk before you can run, Jimbo.” 

Leonard learns that Jim is absolutely atrocious at dancing. Jim, eventually reaching the same conclusion, stops getting frustrated and starts laughing, stepping on Bones’ toes a little more often and laughing more when Bones curses loudly. 

Jim starts to drift off on Leonard’s shoulder when they stop trying to waltz and start swaying like teenagers slow dancing at a prom. 

He yelps when Leonard sweeps him up into his arms bridal-style. “Hey, hey, the song’s not over yet!” 

“I believe it’s past time for young cadets to get their asses in bed, kid.” 

“Boooooooooooones, I’m not tired-“ 

“Bullshit,” He sings loudly. Jim snickers. “Come on, if you’re a real good boy I’ll read you a story.” 

“You’re such a prick sometimes.” 

“And here I was going to let you use my favorite quilt to help smooth any lingering trauma over. But a prick wouldn’t do that, would he?” 

Jim guffaws when Leonard plops him down onto their “mega-bed”, as Jim calls it. 

(One of the first things Jim made them do when they first bought the apartment was push the two singles they had together and throw every single pillow and blanket in the house onto the now-sorta-queen-sized bed. 

Most people would have asked before sharing a bed, but Jim, when pressed, shrugged and said he just wanted to maximize comfort and Bones was comforting and Bones slept better when Jim was next to him so why not? 

Leonard couldn’t argue with that logic.) 

Leonard throws himself down onto the nest of warmth, wrapping an arm around Jim’s middle. Jim curls into Leonard’s side, humming happily when said quilt is thrown over both of them. 

“I’m always here if you want to talk about anything, Jimmy.” The words are awkward and the sort of clichéd shit that he used to scoff at when his mama watched crappy holovids, but Jim’s eyes dart up to him nonetheless. 

“Thanks. I just… I can’t. Not now. Maybe not anytime soon.” 

“That’s fine too. I have a few dances up my sleeve we can work on if you’d like.” 

He feels Jim’s smile through the muscles in the kid’s neck. 

“Yeah, I’d like.” 

Jim, somehow, doesn’t seem to have any negative effects from never talking about whatever it was that caused his breakdown that night. He seems happier after the dance lesson, and Leonard assumes that would be the end of the incident. If Jim brings it up again, he will worry when it happens. 

Leonard marvels at Jim’s seeming ability to accept his emotions as they occur and let them go. He adds another tally to his “Jim Kirk’s Quirks” list and forgets the entire night, more or less.

Up until the night Jim comes home a day before Thanksgiving and starts hyperventilating when Leonard asks what he’d like to do for dinner the next day. 

“Thanksgiving was- It was a bad day, just a really bad day,” He stumbles over his words when he and Leonard both release the paper bag that had been frantically shoved into his face minutes before. “That’s- He- No Thanksgiving Bones, please, don’t- I’ll totally pay for a shuttle for you to go home if you want so you can do it yourself but I can’t, I really, really can’t-“ 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Leonard grips Jim’s chin and forces their eyes to meet. “Jim. It’s okay. We’ll have Chinese take out if that’s what you want, no big deal. I was never big on Thanksgiving anyway. You should show appreciation every goddamn day, not just on the day the calendar says it’s appropriate.” 

Jim hiccups. “Can I have a glass of water?” 

Leonard nods. “Just a sec.” 

“With ice?” 

“Sure thing.” 

He grabs the tallest glass they have, fills it to the brim with cold water. The ice crackles as he drops it in. 

Jim grabs for it greedily when he returns. He takes one sip, then two, pulling all of the ice into his mouth and holding it there. 

Leonard jumps when Jim dumps the remains over the top of his head. He crunches on the ice and his eyes squeeze shut. 

Blond hair drips water onto the floor. Jim grimaces and sticks his tongue out to prod it with his thumb. 

“My tongue’s cold and numb.” 

“That usually happens when you eat a pound of ice.” 

Jim nods. “I sort of like it. It was always really hot there.” 

Leonard doesn’t ask where “there” is or was. He nods back. “I’ve never seen snow. Lived down south all my life. We should go skiing or something over break.” 

“Skiing?” 

Leonard attempts to explain an activity he has seen on holovids once, maybe twice. He fails. Jim still seems intrigued though, so he counts it as a half-victory. 

He wonders if he tries soon enough if he can make arrangements for them to stay at a resort the week of Christmas. 

“Bones, you said before that if I ever wanted to talk about something, I could,” Jim blurts out. “Can I just… Can you just let me talk and babble and even if it doesn’t make sense can you just pretend it does and not say anything until I’m all done and even then don’t ever bring it up again please?” 

Leonard runs a hand over Jim’s wet hair. “Whatever you need, Jimbo.”} 

Leonard remembers that night; the heartbreaking confessions Jim gasped out in between panicked breathing. 

He tries not to think about it because Jim asked him not to dwell on it after he was done. 

Their third year didn’t demonstrate Jim being fucking weird. It was the first solid proof that Leonard stole a few pages from Jim’s book and flew off from “fucking weird” into “completely mentally unstable.” 

{“I’m doing you a favor. I couldn’t just leave you there looking all pathetic. Take a seat. I’m gonna give you a vaccine against viral infection from Melvaren mud fleas.”}

Their third year ended with a bang, to say the least. 

So it’s after Nero, after press conferences, after basic necessities and scrambled paperwork and frantic comm calls, it’s Jim who collapses in their apartment on the couch and sleeps for a full day. 

When he wakes up, there’s a flower right next to his face, brushing his nose and causing it to scrunch. He groans softly, still half-asleep. 

Leonard’s face is inches from his, and he knows his eyes and nose are all red and his hair is a mess but he understands after two years of trying to do this right he finally understands why pre-death funerals are probably one of the healthiest coping methods people like him and Jim can do. 

“Never ever make me worry like that again because I have never felt so helpless. I’m a doctor, not an engineer or a navigator or anyone that can help in a strategic crisis like that and you fucking beamed over there without me you ignorant bastard just because I’m not a fighter-“ His shoulders shake. “I should have been there if something went wrong and I was so scared that you had gotten yourself killed and I wouldn’t be there to do anything about it. 

“And I keep looking at you and praying that I’ll get to see your eyes open again because I know you’re okay but how the fuck can I believe that when you were blasted onto a random planet and went on an enemy ship and you have those fucking bruises around your neck-“ 

He chokes on the words, pressing a hand against his temple at the stress migraine forming. 

“You stupid, brave imbecile. If I didn’t love you so much I’d rip your throat out with my goddamn teeth for all of this.” 

Jim’s wrapping around Leonard before he can continue. Leonard digs his nails into Jim’s shirt and sobs once, twice- 

He knew that having more than a few glasses of bourbon as he filled out paperwork was a bad idea. He had always been a maudlin drunk. 

Jim doesn’t seem to mind, though, so Leonard lets go this once. 

Later, when Leonard isn’t hysterical and his buzz is fading the slightest bit, Jim whispers, “No one ever cried for me before. During the funerals, I mean. They all sorta tolerated them, but they never really got it.” 

Leonard tightens his arms around Jim’s midsection. “I get it.” 

“I know. That’s why you’re my best friend.” 

Months later, when it’s Jim’s trial run as captain and he’s on probation as CMO, Leonard has a shitty day filled with too many deaths and not enough fixes. 

He stalks up to the bridge after his shift ends, fists clenching and eyes bloodshot, praying that Jim hasn’t signed up for a double again because that’s the only person he wants to see. 

“Bones?” Jim, concern etched into his features, leaps out of his chair and hurries to his side. “What do you need?” 

“You free?” 

“Not really, we’re too close to the border for me to leave when one wrong turn and we’re phaser food. Do you need to sit down? That’s usually what people want when they’re distressed, right? Fuck, I don’t know what to do-“ 

“You want to waltz?” 

Jim blinks. “Right now? On the bridge?” 

“Why the fuck not? You’re just here in case something happens, they’ll let you know if something comes up. All you’ be doing is sitting and staring at the viewscreen until then, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So let’s waltz. You’re being the chick.” 

“I’m always the chick. And I make it look good.” 

“All you need is some red lipstick to complete it.” 

Jim clicks on some music and they waltz. 

Up and down, back and forth across the bridge, Jim mutters, “One-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three” and Bones snickers when his feet get trampled and Uhura watches them the entire time and Chekov hums under his breath with the music and thus claiming it to be Russian-born and Sulu seems unsure if he’s experiencing reality or a very good acid trip. 

Spock has a conniption when they almost crush a PADD underneath their feet. 

Bones laughs and doesn’t stop until Jim waltzes him straight into the turbolift once they’re past the border. 

“It’s going to be okay, Bones.” 

And then it’s a year later, when Jim has the captain’s chair permanently and Leonard rules with a tight fist in sickbay, when they cannot get Thanksgiving as a shoreleave date. 

{“Too many ships with seniority already called dibs, Kirk,” Pike shrugged as he denied the request. “I believe we should refrain from ‘rocking the boat’ too early.” 

Leonard kicked him under the table when he almost jerked out of his seat. 

“Understood, sir.” Jim gritted out. “Kirk out.”} 

Leonard ensures that Scotty has a minor disaster in engineering that needs to be solved by the captain specifically before he arrives on the bridge. 

“Listen up folks, I have about ten minutes before Jim gets back, so I’ll make this quick. 

“Don’t talk about Thanksgiving, he doesn’t like it. Don’t ask Jim if he needs to be put on the holiday-private-direct-comm-schedule, he doesn’t need or want to be on it and he will only be upset if you ask. Don’t hack the replicators to produce a turkey dinner for everybody, he’ll cry and no one wants to see that. Don’t remind him of the date, don’t even mention that it’s November, don’t make any comment about any Thanksgiving tradition until he’s out of the room, don’t talk about turkeys, don’t talk about pilgrims and Indians or whatever the Hell your Thanksgiving consists of- 

“Basically, pretend, while the captain’s in the room, that Thanksgiving doesn’t exist. It’s a doctor’s order and I’ll have any and-or all of you in the brig for obstruction if you don’t follow what I’m saying exactly.” 

His arms, crossed tightly against his chest, flop out to his sides with a sarcastic grin. 

“Any questions, or may we all go back to our regularly scheduled programs?” 

Chekov raises his hand. 

“It’s not high school, you infant, spit it out.” 

“May we ask why it is so imperative that we do not speak of this holiday, sir?” 

“You can.” 

“Sir, why is it so imperative that we do not speak of this holiday?” 

“None of your business. Since he thought we’d have shoreleave, he didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, and now he’s too anxious to do it himself, so I’m stepping in and giving you the bare bones of it all. Any other questions?” 

Uhura and Spock share a glance, Sulu nods seriously, and Chekov stares at his lap, befuddled. Leonard claps his hands and grins again. 

“Great. Now keep your mouths shut and we won’t have a problem. Ask Jim about any of this and I’ll make sure you have a front row seat to the next faulty airlock.” 

He approaches the turbolift, allows Jim to step out before ruffling his hair and taking his place. 

“Bones! We still on for Chinese tonight?” 

“Jimbo, if you have to ask you should be in sickbay getting your head checked out.” 

“Only if it’s by you, sweetcheeks.” 

“That is not on our list of acceptable nicknames-“ 

The doors slide shut on Jim’s beaming grin. 

One more year later, it’s a dangerous slope with enemies surrounding them. 

“Alright, come on Bonesy, we’re almost there-“ 

“Jim-“ 

“Come on! You can’t stop now, there’s only a couple more steps-“ 

“I can’t- Seriously, stop pulling me! I can’t, Jimmy, we’re not going to make it if you keep dragging me along.” 

“Shut the fuck up, you’re fucking insane if you think I can make it out without you. Move your goddamn feet you stupid prick-!” 

“Jim-“ 

“I’m repaying the goddamn favor Bones and you can’t stop me so shut up and move your fucking feet so I can stab you with a vaccine for once when we get out of here!” 

* * * * * 

So it’s the next day, after Jim leaves his bed and curls up underneath the covers with Leonard, making a tent over top of them with the stiff medbay sheet, when he says what Leonard has been thinking for half a decade- 

“You’re fucking weird, you know that?” 

“Yeah kid, I know. It’s the only way I can deal with your troublesome ass.” 

“Love you.” 

“Yeah, love you too.” 

Their starchy pale blue gowns scrape against each other as they settle in, Leonard grumbling when Jim elbows a sensitive bruise and Jim wrapping his cold feet around Leonard’s stiff leg cast.


End file.
